A Very Merry Christopher Herrmann
by CFCPD
Summary: "He lies there thinking of his brothers and sisters standing only a few feet away. As he slowly drifts off he remembers all of the great moments he's shared with them, all the fires they fought side by side, all the loss they endured together, and all the laughter and love they've shared thoughout the years. He loved them all like his family." Five Christopher Herrmann One-Shots.


Disclaimer: I do not own Christopher Herrmann, nor do I own any of the Chicago Fire characters. (Yes, I know, it is quite the tragedy.) All rights belong to NBC.

—

He's not entirely sure why he's so jittery. He's usually energetic, but this is something different. All he knows is that today is his first day at House 51, and he can't wait to get started. He was ambitious by nature; always chewing someone's ear off in the corner, always going on about his next big entrepreneurial adventure. Those jobs almost always ended in disaster, were usually dead ends, but this would be different. This would be a career. Fighting fires with his new brothers at 51. He would find a home there. He was sure of it.

Boy, was he ready.

He quickly jumped into some jeans and a white tee, and headed towards the kitchen. His wife, Cindy, was already up. She always managed to put a pot of coffee up, clean the house, and get herself ready for the day, all before he even opened his eyes.

His wife, he thought to himself, was a superhero. He didn't know how she did it, but he sang her praises whenever he could. He got lucky. He knows that. He jokes with the guys all the time about how he married out of his league. He's not ashamed to acknowledge that his wife is his better half. Not a shot.

He walks into the kitchen for just a few seconds. With a quick kiss to his cheek, and a coffee to-go placed in his hands, he was on his way out the door, the bounce in his step making his wife smile.

He was already halfway to his car when he realized he didn't have his keys. Typical.

Cindy was already ten steps ahead of him, meeting him at his car, dangling his keys in his face with a smile. He took them lovingly. Before he could move to open the car door she grabbed his face in her hands, assured him that he was going to be great, and sent him on his way.

Not before yelling out to him to, "Please be careful!"

On the drive over he thought about all the time he had spent training at the academy. There, he had met Randy McHolland, a funny guy who always managed to make him laugh without ever really trying. If you asked Herrmann, he didn't seem like the get up and go type, but he thought that maybe he was judging the guy too quickly. When Randy had called him a few days ago to tell him he'd been assigned House 51, he was excited to hear the news. He'd already have a buddy to run through the fire with.

He'd also be able to see firsthand just how ambitious his pal was.

It was a short drive from his house to 51. In minutes he was staring at the outside of his new haven. Here, he decided, is where he'd learn about brotherhood and leadership and loyalty. He wouldn't have time to be afraid, to second-guess anything. He would become a man willing to sacrifice himself for another without question.

He couldn't think of a better way to live.

He parked his car across the street from the firehouse and eagerly walked on to the apparatus floor. He was taking in his surroundings, smiling to himself, when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Ah. You must be Christopher Herrmann," a deep voice boomed.

He swiftly turned and was greeted by a tall man with a bright smile. Chief Boden.

"Yes sir," he offered, the stupid grin still on his face. "I'm very excited to be here, Chief. I won't let you down."

"I have no doubt."

With that Boden shook his hand and walked back towards the kitchen. Herrmann stood there for just a few seconds longer, his eyes lingering on Truck 81. He couldn't explain the feeling of euphoria settling deep within his chest, but when those bells went off, and he and his fellow men were jumping into the truck and driving towards the flames, he felt alive.

Later, when he returned from fighting his first fire, he changed out of his gear and let his eyes linger on the truck for just a few more seconds.

He knew it.

He was finally home.

—

He's going to be a father.

In nine months a little guy or girl is going to come into his life and turn it upside down.

He's ready.

In the first few weeks of his wife's pregnancy Herrmann creates his own nighttime ritual. He knows it's silly because it's not like the baby can hear him or anything, but he does it anyway. He waits until Cindy falls asleep, watches to make sure she is resting soundly in their bed, and then he starts talking into the air.

One particular night he gets home late from shift. He changes out of his clothes, climbs into bed, and watches as his wife's chest rises and falls.

Then he starts.

"Hey little guy, it's your dad. HA! Maybe I shouldn't call you little _guy_. Maybe you're a girl and you're gonna come out here with your fists up. Fierce, just like your mama. That wouldn't be the worst thing. Actually, I'd love that. I'd love you either way. No matter what. Your old man can't wait to meet you."

When he finished his little soliloquy he shut off the lights and drifted into sleep.

He's off shift on a Wednesday. Cindy is a few weeks pregnant now, and they're heading out for breakfast and a short walk through the park. At the diner, Cindy jokingly teases that she's now eating for two, and promptly orders half the menu. He watches as his wife shoves pancakes into her mouth, and he can't help but laugh. This life, he thinks to himself, is perfect. He's with the woman he loves and they're expecting a child. How could it get better?

They're not even ten steps into their stroll when Cindy grabs his arm. Her face contorts as the pain pulsates throughout her entire body, and Herrmann finds himself panicking. Cramps, he tells himself. They're just stomach cramps. She ate too much and walked too soon and it'll pass. He's ushering her back into the car when she screams out in pain. He runs around to the driver's side, straps on his belt, and speeds toward the hospital.

The doctors quickly assess the situation, and it's not long before his wife is lying on a bed, being pushing into an OR. He thinks he heard them mention something about the baby but he couldn't concentrate with his wife crying out in pain.

Couldn't they make it stop? Couldn't they help her? Couldn't _he_ help her?

It feels like hours before a doctor finally comes to talk to him. He's worried about Cindy, asking questions about how she's doing and if she's still in pain. He's so caught up in how his wife is, that he barely processes what the doctor said.

Then, suddenly, the news hits him. Hard.

He runs into burning buildings for a living, but this is worse.

This news knocks the wind right out from under him.

They lost the baby.

Cindy had miscarried.

Their little family of three was no more.

Later, when his wife wakes up, he puts on a brave face as he holds her sobbing form in his arms. He whispers encouraging words into her ear, tells her that they'll keep trying, that it just wasn't meant to be. He refuses to let his wife see him cry. Not when she's so broken herself.

It isn't until three days later, when they're home and Cindy is sleeping in their bed, that he lets his tears falls.

It is then that he realizes: there will be no more nighttime ritual.

No more whispered promises into the night of a perfect little family.

At least not for now.

—

He's sure that this is the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

One of his big vitamin water ventures fell through, and now not only was he left with a garage full of it, but he would soon be calling his in-laws his roomies. His lingering, intrusive in-laws were now his housemates.

He wasn't going to survive this.

Yet, here he was, packing up his children and their belongings into his van. In a fit of blinding rage he tosses the keys to the home that he could no longer afford into the street. With one last look he peels out of the driveway.

He was confident that this water thing would be it. He told everyone he had found the golden ticket, and laughed in the faces of all who doubted him. _This_ side job would pay off. All the hours brainstorming the details and making sure they all checked out wouldn't be for nothing. He was sure of it.

How could he have been played?

It fell through, just like all of his other big plans, and now it was worse because he had let his family down.

This was his punishment.

Forget the bitter sting of lost dreams. This took the cake. This was demoralizing.

Cindy's parents are waiting with open arms when they pull up. They form a chain, exchanging hugs and kisses, when his mother-in-law insists that they take a break and get a drink before unpacking the car. He wasn't going to fight her on that. He had known better.

He's three sips in when he notices just how _intimate_ the space was. There wasn't much room for two people, let alone eight.

Begrudgingly he gulps down the remaining liquid, walks to his car, and leans his head on the doorframe.

He would find another way. Get another job. Hell, he'd get five if he had to so that he and his family could afford their own home.

For now he had to deal with his circumstances.

Even if that meant sharing a crapper with his father-in-law.

—

He notices everything.

He notices the way Casey and Dawson barely look at one another on shift, and how when they do manage to make eye contact there is pain in their eyes. He knows about the breakup, heard whispers of it throughout the house. Unfortunately you can't escape that at 51. The house loved gossip.

This is Dawson and Casey, he thought to himself when the news reaches him, these two lovebirds could make it through anything.

He has to laugh. Those two were always dancing around each other. Neither could ever really catch up to the other, and when they did he was ecstatic for them. He was a sucker for young love, especially when it came to his lieutenant.

He's known Casey for years now, and Gabby is like his kid sister. It's killing him that they are both hurting.

He knows how stubborn they are. He knows that even if they miss each other, neither will want to be the first to admit it. They're playing some sort of game with one another, testing each other, seeing which will break first. He thinks it's childish. He wants to grab his lieutenant and shake him until he can see straight. He wants to somehow make him see what he's letting slip away.

As for Gabby, well, she could use some of his tough love.

He keeps quiet for the better part of three days. What can he say? He's a bit of a meddler, but only when it comes to the people he loves.

It doesn't surprise him when Gabby offers to clean up after a long night at Molly's. It does, however, take him by surprise when she suddenly stops cleaning off the bar. She turns to look at him then, her brows tight together, the way they always are when she's thinking too hard.

This is it, he thinks, she's finally going to open up to him, ask him for advice. He knows it's a difficult situation for her, not just because she's always been a private girl who likes to deal with her crap on her own, but because Casey is his lieutenant. She knows his loyalty runs deep, but he hopes that she'll consider his loyalty to her as well.

At the very least he hopes that he'll be able to impart some Herrmann wisdom before closing the bar for the night.

The words spill out of her mouth so quietly he almost doesn't hear them.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake? Do you think _we're_ making a mistake?"

It takes him a few seconds to think it through. He wants to make sure he says the right thing. He wants to give her the perfect piece of advice.

Before he can open his mouth she's talking again.

"I just don't get it. If he didn't want me to leave, he shouldn't have let me. It's that simple. Right?"

"Oh, Gabby," he says, his tone endearing. "Love is never that simple."

He watches as her expression falls just a bit, and continues.

"I get it. You two are in a messy situation. He's your lieutenant and you're his candidate, but so what? I know you both could make it work."

"It's more than that, Herrmann," she interjects.

"The Gabby I know kicks ass," he exclaims confidently.

"She leads with passion and doesn't take anything from anybody. She's fierce. She's bold, and she'd do anything for the people she loves. She also doesn't run away from her problems. Now I'm not here to lecture you, kid, but we both know that this is fixable. You say you wanted him to chase you out that door so bad? That it's that simple? I think you have your answer."

He watches as a small smile graces her face.

"Now go on. Get outta here. I can clean up the rest."

She kisses his cheek, grabs her coat, and heads toward the door.

"Oh and Gabby," he says, a chuckle in his voice.

"Tell my lieutenant I said hello."

—

He's in the back, checking inventory, when Freddie comes in mumbling about Otis needing glasses that are short and fat.

He laughs out loud, makes some mindless joke about how the glasses are like Freddie, when suddenly the boy in front of him snaps. His anger is both confusing and amusing to Herrmann.

He's hanging with the 51 guys now, after all, and he's going to need thicker skin if he's gonna make it.

He needs to learn how to rib with the big guys.

He's mid-sentence when it happens. All it takes is a moment, really, before he feels it. He looks down, grabbing at his bloody shirt, when he sees Freddie's knife is suddenly lodged in his lower abdomen.

In seconds he's hissing out in pain.

He watches as the boy backs away, shock or fear or regret written all over his face. He's not sure which one it is. All he knows is that the pain is crippling, and suddenly he's falling to the floor, the knife tossed beside him.

He quickly starts looking around the room for anything that will make noise. Molly's had just gotten a karaoke machine as a desperate attempt to drive the obnoxious neighbors away, and right now the guys at 51 are making good use of it. Tonight is a night to celebrate. Boden has been exonerated and Severide got his bugle back.

Everyone was happy and carefree.

The music and chatter is so loud they'll never hear him.

He doesn't even have the energy to scream.

Instead he lies there, thinking of his brothers and sisters standing only a few feet away. As he slowly drifts off he remembers all of the great moments he shared with them, all the fires they fought side by side, all the loss they endured together, and all the laughter and love they've shared thoughout the years. He loved them all like his family.

 _His family._

His children.

He had always promised he'd come home to them. He never intended to break that promise. Certainly not off shift, and definitely not because of some stupid joke. Cindy would be forced to raise them and provide for them all on her own.

 _Cindy._

His beautiful, strong wife.

Her face is the last thing he sees before it all goes black.


End file.
